Eighteen Pictures Is Worth 800 Words

While riding New York City subways and busses, masks are required for the vaccinated and unvaccinated alike. I’m okay with that and so are—from my observations at least—most riders. In fact, in my subway excursions yesterday—from the Bronx to Manhattan and back—I counted a mere handful of folks without a mask. One unmasked passenger—a young woman—was confronted by a masked older woman and dead ringer for an aunt of mine. The latter wanted to know where the former’s mask was. The unmasked accused said that she was vaccinated. “That’s meaningless,” replied the masked enforcer. “I work in a hospital!”

Meaningless? Well, I wouldn’t go that far. Personally, I’d be very leery of confronting unmasked riders in the New York City transit system. My view is that I’m vaccinated, masked, and not sitting on top of a fellow straphanger, which is protection enough for me. The mask patrol was fortunate that the unmasked person in question just said, “Okay…okay…okay” after the chiding and let it lay. The truth be told: Some people are itching for a fight—verbal and even physical. What follows are assorted snapshots and thoughts concerning this, that, and the other thing in these very strange and tense times.

After the remnants of Hurricane Ida struck with a vengeance Wednesday night, the unrelenting heat and humidity of days past vanished. While riding the rails this weekend, I felt cold in the subway cars. Wearing a mask in the underground recesses was certainly more tolerable under these conditions. 

I’m certainly looking forward to the post-de Blasio New York City. Sadly, though, the big oaf is contemplating running for governor next year. He just can’t enough of running, I guess.

A year ago, when COVID-19 first reared its ugly head and dealt a considerable blow to the city’s coffers, organic garbage recycling was suspended until June 2021. Hello…it’s September 2021, and I’m still tossing my chicken bones, carrot peels, and soiled paper towels in with the regular garbage.

From unprecedented rainfall and flooding to a picture postcard…

Tourists are certainly back. The Lady Liberty tour boats were packed to the rafters. Hope there were no mask scuffles on board.

It would be nice if Americans remembered what the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island signify. We seem to be willingly forfeiting our liberties in a headlong dash toward insanity. If kids going to college—of all places—are literally afraid to express an opinion that goes against the woke grain, that’s a slippery slope leading to a bad place.

Happily, there’s at least some pushback against the nuttiness in primary and secondary education, calling out crackpot educators who put a premium on political indoctrination over reading, writing, and arithmetic. In the end, liberty will prevail, he says, fingers crossed…

The New York City bird—the pigeon—is more relaxed now that many tourists have returned, not to mention the metropolis’s hipsters getting out and about again in greater numbers and leaving their Pret a Manger crumbs in their wakes.

It very definitely takes a village…

But sadly, the pandemic has taken a big hit on it.

Outdoor dining structures remain on the city’s byways in considerable numbers, which doesn’t please everyone. Cross streets are inundated with them, which makes driving in the typical traffic mess even messier. Oh, and did I mention there a fewer parking spaces in a city with limited parking spaces. And some of the edifices are bona fide eyesores as well.

An unfriendly call followed by a visit from Luca Brasi?

Impatiens in Battery Park City, a world unto itself built on landfill from the excavation of the Twin Towers. Once upon a time, I’d be standing in the Hudson River at this spot or, perhaps, on an old and rotting wooden pier. 

Yes, my Luv Gov is no more. His recent “farewell address” was painful to watch—and with no apologies. I suspect we haven’t heard the last of Andy Boy because old politicians never die or fade away.

Considering that the subway system was a total mess after the Ida soaking, my weekend excursion was problem free with absolutely no vestiges of the flooding of several days ago. 

Have Corona beer sales suffered during the Corona virus? Just wondering...

During his lengthy service at the James A. Farley post office—the city’s main post office on Eighth Avenue—my father exited at the 28th Street station on the Number 1 line. On Wednesday evening, this very spot resembled a prime white water rafting locale.

I presume this Department of Transportation sign is cautioning us to be aware of the increasingly ubiquitous bicyclists in the city. In my experience, it’s likewise good advice vis-à-vis high school principals.

(Photos from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)